The Perfect Time for Rain
by WeAllLoveHiccup
Summary: Sometimes, a well trodden path holds the most danger. A near-tragedy sets off a previously stunted chain reaction to the inevitable path the comes with age: maturity and morality. T for mentions of child abuse and language.
1. Cracks in the pavement

**Disclaimer: Httyd. Not mine. There you go.**

The house was too quiet.

He creaked open the heavy door, expecting Stoick yelling at the tv, Stoick yelling at Hiccup, crashing or banging or any other loud noise that usually accompanied his cousins house. But there was nothing.

Slowly, Snotlout walked through the house, checking every room. He walked up the stairs.

The first one creaked.

The third and fourth one creaked on the right side.

The sixth one didn't creak if you stepped on the corner.

The next three wouldn't creak under Hiccups impossibly light weight.

The twelfth one was hollow, it made a different sound to the others.

The last one was silent.

Silent like the house.

He reached Stoick's bedroom at last. The door pushed open easily, with less protest as the rest of the house. Slowly, a slither of light entered the pitch dark room. His heart nearly stopped as he saw two familiar feet.

Well _foot_.

One fragile, porcelain, pale too tiny looking foot, connected to a pathetically bony ankle.

One gross, mangled, pool of dark red.

He slammed the door shut, feeling the sound wave crawl through the fragile floorboards.

This was it.

He couldn't deny it anymore.

He couldn't pretend that the bruise on his eye was from his own elbow or the handprint on his wrist was a _teacher_. That he bruised easily because he was scrawny. That he was scrawny because he was weak, not because he was starved.

That it was cool to call him names and taunt him, not because Snotlout Jorgensen couldn't handle the truth.

Not because Hiccup Haddock was dead in the next room.

He fumbled for his phone in his jeans pocket, not quite believing what he was about to do. What did they say in movies? Uhm...

 _Hello this is Berk police service, how can I help you?_

~Uhm... hi. I'd like to make an anonymous... tip off?

 _Yes ok._

~Yeh. I'm here to report a case of c..child abuse.

There. He fucking said it. Holy shit. He fucking said it!

 _Alright. Can you tell us the location?_

~Er yes. 19 Nadder way.

 _We will be there shortly. Thank you for your call._

The woman's nasally voice cut off.

He stood there, shocked, numb, dumbfounded. 13 years of denial wasted by one phone call. His hand ghosted the doorknob but he retracted it, not wanting to look at his cousins corpse. Well not until a faint hitch in breath and a shaking cough resounded from inside the room.

Snotlout's eyes widened and he ran. Down the thirteen stairs, caring if they creaked or not seeming stupid and childish as he ran from the police like in some black and white movie where British officials spoke emphatically in over dramatic accents. Once he was far enough around the corner, he slowed his pace and shoved his hands in his hoodie.

As police cars rounded the corner he just ran from, the overwhelming sense of not quite reality, movie-verse hit him. Only no sirens were blaring. The cars were black and silver, not yellow and blue. Undercover. Plain clothes division. Whatever.

Hiccup is alive.

Hiccup.

Alive.

But his foot. Snotlout gulped. He had no idea just how painful that one injury must be, let alone _everything else_. The exact _everything else_ he tries to deny. Deny because it is just too horrible, inhumane, plain wrong to think about.

He almost wished he was dead. He wished Hiccup would shout and scream, yell about how unfair his life is, or how shit he's being treated. Snotlout knows he deserves it. But he doesn't. He keeps that maddening fake smile on his goddamn face and bares it. His pathetic huge green eyes screaming help me and making Snotlout face his biggest fear. The truth.

Finally an ambulance shows up, blaring around that cursed corner in true textbook fashion. He's still standing there when it blares out again, frantically charging in almost childish hope to save a broken life.

A life that he broke.

So Snotlout stands there, hands in the pockets of his worn out hoodie, thinking idly about life and guilt and how this is the perfect time for rain. But nothing's ever perfect, is it?

 **Well... yeah. Review?**


	2. Echoes of pain

Hiccup awoke slowly, light filtering through his heavy eyelids. The moment of sleepy bliss and oblivion was painfully short. Hiccup sighed, his _punishment_ coming back to him non too slowly.

Methodically, he rolled his hips once and contracted his muscles, a habit he had gotten into quickly after a few mornings of re-opening wounds and springing up on broken bones.

Hissing at the dull pain he knew would be there and gritting his teeth together, he waited for the wave of agony to subside before focusing on why he couldn't feel his left foot.

Forcing his aching neck upwards, he took in the room with quick, darting eyes, noticing anything out of place or that could be used as a weapon subconsciously. Then, his sleep fogged brain caught up with him and a wave of shattering panic coursed through his wasted body, the thought so powerful his whole being shuddered.

 _I'm in a hospital._

He was so stupid. How could he have not noticed? For starters, it smelt different. All clean and plasticy and everything his house was not. The ceiling was white. There was way too much light in the room. Lastly, the most blindingly obvious thing of all, he was in a _bed_.

Panic seizing his form so completely he could almost taste it, he squeezed his muscles taut and attempted to lift himself up. Unsteadily, he swayed in a sitting position as his ribs angrily screamed in protest. Gasping for air and letting his body sway almost rhythmically was working, until he looked at the end of the bed.

A scream he didn't recognise as his erupted from his battered throat.

His leg was missing.

The terror wracking his body increased impossibly, the two thoughts drifting around incoherently abstract in his head.

 _Missing... gone... hop... hosssspital...leave...go..gone...leg...stupid!...ribs...aaaa... n...nuhhhhh_

The last thing he was aware of was the door opening before a soft wave of darkness blanketed his frazzled nerves.

 **I know it's short, but Hiccup nearly died! The next chapter will be longer and more Snotlout centric, 10 points for whoever guesses the person at the door!**

 **Bye :)**


	3. Turbulent reflection

Snotlout splashed his face and yanked the tap off viciously. He stared at his strange reflection, the broken mirror changing his appearance considerably. Even so, he could make out his own grey, bloodshot eyes, staring back at him accusingly.

 _Alright boy, I want you to listen to me._

He ran his hand over the scar on his arm, breath hitching. It was the one, ugly white line that marred the smooth muscles he worked so hard to get.

 _Today, my business becomes your business._

He had got it on his first job, an unsatisfied customer. Spitelout had sent him out with the package, which he tucked into his hoodie pocket, a stupid, obvious place which he now knew should never be used. He handed it over to the pale, scarred man in front of him, just as instructed. But it wasn't enough. There's never enough.

 _You need to know the rules._

That night, he got back and Hiccup was there. Hiccup was always there. Just sitting there, on the old leather couch with stains and three rips in. He wasn't counting, each one came with a memory he'd rather forget. But brains are cruel things aren't they? Sometimes the biggest element of torture. He doesn't know why deep, philosophical thoughts come to him when he is alone, staring down his own reflection, but maybe because he never thinks. He just acts, like a robot, programmed for its uses.

 _You will keep your head down._

Hiccup asked him if he was ok. He snapped back of course, but this had been their relationship for the past 10 years and Hiccup was more than used to it. He grabbed his arm, just above the hidden cut and marched him to his room. Snotlout, despite being much bigger and stronger, was so surprised that he let him. He grabbed his jacket and yanked it off, with more force than he thought his cousin possessed. Quickly, he had exposed the ugly wound and was working on it with quick, deft, experienced fingers. Snotlout was still confused as to why he didn't flinch at the wound to comprehend why the protected lickle mommas boy knew how to dress a cut so well. He was done in a matter of minutes, somehow having bandages on his person. As soon as he was done, Snotlout jerked his arm away and pushed the boy easily out of his room, with a few brash insults. But that one day stayed with him forever.

 _Dress to be invisible_.

Not wanting to look at his body anymore, he shrugged on his worn hoodie, instantly relaxing at the warm weight and normality of the fabric against his body. That night, after reporting to his father and getting gruff thanks and about one tenth of the money, he was instructed to go to Uncle Stoick. It was the first time he'd heard Hiccup scream.

 _Speak to no one, especially not authorities._

He learnt fast. He bounced back. He always new what to do, how to evade, how to negotiate or how to eliminate. His first one was the most painful, but it was self defence. He watched the man keel over in a pool of blood mercilessly with no expression. He was ugly too. Darker skinned, but still with scars. It seemed everyone had scars. But the man affected him more than he let on. More than he let show and much much more than he told his father. That morning, he woke up to find Hiccup in his arms, snuggled comfortably against him. Of course he shoved him out, dumping his painfully fragile form on the stairs, but nothing changed the fact it was the best and most dreamless sleep he'd had since.

 _If you must go out, move at night._

Grey eyes bored holes into the ones the other side of the broken glass, reflecting all the emotions he cannot let show. Emotions are weaknesses. Things just get broken and people who get close are just leverage, toys used for ransom. He was the expert pretender, he was tough and strong! Death did not affect him. Drugs did not affect him. His father did not affect him and most certainly, his tiny, useless cousin's screams did not affect him. He did not wake in the middle of the night, sweaty and panting, wishing for an uneven, frail heartbeat next to his own. That is just weakness. There must be no weakness. So he became harder, stronger, much more heartless. His fathers dirty approval giving him small bursts of life in his monotonous existence.

 _And finally, listen to me boil!_

Hiccup's injuries became more serious, even he could see them. He could barely walk, spent too much time staring into space on the sofa (which was hardly recognisable as one by this point) and slept far too much and far too fitfully. It was as if, by some cruel fate, Hiccup wasting away on the outside was reflecting his mental state. He was weak. He was just weak. Weak and useless and stupid and grieving and starved and overtired and a- no!

 _You must never, ever, under any circumstances, **call the police.**_

His whole throat bobbed as he swallowed, placing his hand on the doorknob. He had broken the most important rule. If it means war, then so it must be.

 **Well there you go. Usually when I write I know what I'm talking about but I know nothing about drug dealing. Surprisingly...**

 **Please review and tell me what you think! :)**

 **P.s. I wrote this whole thing and now I have a sneaking suspicion Snotlout's eyes are blue... Oh well. I might just have to _watch the movies again_ to find out. *sigh***


	4. Safely caged

**In case you need the disclaimer, I am no closer to owning httyd than I was at the start of this story. Be glad.  
**

 **Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed. Wow, I didn't realise I was so loved!**

 **10 points goes to the guest. Much clap.**

 **Personal revelation: Snotlout's eyes are blue.**

 **Thoughts: fuck.**

 **I should probably put a warning for sarcasm and Heather is a chill ass adult in this. Everyone else is the age they'd be in the first movie. The ANs are so long in this chapter, I usually do really short ones. Anyway, read!**

Hiccup's eyes fluttered open, the not unwelcome but slightly ticklish sensation of his eyelashes on his cheek pulling him out of slumber. The first thing he noticed was a quiet but incessant beeping noise from a machine next to his bed. The dark figure clouding his vision reminds him of his panic attack and the door opening.

 _Must have been the nurse_ , he concluded.

But his slightly hazy vision picked up on a note lying on the plastic grey table. He stretched up to grab it, hissing in pain. He slumped back in the pillows, adjusting to the fact that there was a needle in his arm, attached to some very appetising looking brown sludgy liquid.

 _Great_ , he thought. _New and improved: dog shit! Cures all ailments._

On closer inspection, it didn't really look like poison so he let it slide. Dragging his thoughts back to the note, he steeled himself and lifted his body off the bed to snatch it, flopping gracelessly back down.

 _Oh yes, incredible core strength strikes again. I managed to almost sit up. Wow._

He strained his eyes to read the scrawled letter.

Hic,

I'm rlly sorry bout this. Didn't mean to get u in hospital. But stay safe, alright? I'm glad ur still alive.

This changes nothing, fishbone.

Snot

He stared at the scribbled, blotchy short note for a bit longer. Snotlout? Snotlout Jorgensen? His beat-you-up first, kill you later, heartless cousin? The most anti police person in the history of authorities?

Snotlout the fucking druggie. Called the police. To protect him.

Hiccup wasn't stupid. He knew what hospitals meant. They all did. Going to any sort of authority would mean too many questions, medical procedures, spooks and some sort of home or orphanage for fucked up rejects like him.

He gulped, spreading his arms out to grab the sides of the bed and every inch of air his fingers felt making him feel sicker. Smaller. Hiccup knew he was small, he had always been small. Having a parent with vast in his nickname dwarfed him. But even being grabbed by a hand twice the size of his head didn't make him feel as small as he did now.

He finally reached the sides of the bed, hating how wide his arms had to spread to reach them. He was weak, defenceless. He couldn't fucking walk, for gods sake.

He was useless and helpless. The overwhelming sense of defeat returned. The kind he felt when he gave up trying to stand on broken legs, or take deep breaths with broken ribs. When he realised after an embarrassing long time that makeup did not hide swelling, but it did hide his telltale freckles. Now he knew the game was up. He is going to have to talk about it.

Somehow, reliving experiences is worse than living them, like the first time fear clouds the senses and feeling numbs. Sensations jumble together into an overwhelming feeling of pain, dark and red. It's not until the dreams begin until it hits exactly what he just survived. He doesn't want to talk, or explain. He sucks at talking. He learnt far too quickly exactly what do do with his body, the most placating stance, the least painful positions, the sounds that make him back off slightly and how to be submissive.

Talking is something else. Something he's never had to do properly. Talking never helps. Speaking up earns a slap. Yelling and pleading are pointless. Crying is an absolute weakness that just hardens the heart of any attacker. Over the years, Hiccup decided it was better just to say silent. So he uses sarcasm as his shield, his soft, unthreatening voice as a weapon and silence as his preferred battle tactic. Until suddenly he is in a clean, white bed wrapped in bandages and feeling better than he has in months. And he's terrified.

The door opens, outside noise and chatter invading the silence for a few seconds, before it clicks shut again. It's a woman, probably a nurse, but she doesn't really look like one. She was slim, with black hair braided in a ponytail. He just watched her as she checked all his machines and wrote some things down. He hadn't seen a girl for a while. It was nice, he guesses.

Finally, she stops in front of the bed and takes a steadying breath.

"So, would you like to tell me why you're here?"

Hiccup just gaped at her. "What, you're not going to fake smile and rattle off all my injuries and ask me if I'm ok?"

She chuckled, bringing an overly wide smile to her face. "Well, Mr Haddock, you appear to have a severe case of cynicism and sarcasm, and by the way, are you ok?"

He snorted, ducking his head and looking at her curiously through his long hair.

"I'm Heather."

"Hiccup."

"Really Hiccup, you seem way too smart for all of that, and I'm not going to treat you like you don't know anything. I'm sure you could give a better account of your injuries than I could, and I'm sure you don't need to hear them. But I will need to ask you how you got into this state."

Hiccup made a little chuffing sound, pretending to think hard.

"I ran into a door." He drawled with a wry smile.

Heather put her hand over her heart, gasping. "Oh no, poor child. That sounds absolutely horrific. Well now, it seems you and the door have quite a history! You were here only three years ago. Was it the same door?"

"Oh yes, the door seemed quite intent on ruining my day. Rather rude if you ask me."

Hiccup grinned impishly, watching Heather with amusement as she shook her head. He had no intention of staying here, as soon as he was off all these machines and had something he could actually walk on, he was out of here. But it was nice to have someone to play around with this time.

Yes, he had been here once before. In what he can only assume as a moment of madness, Stoick picked a customer with actual morals who took him to the hospital because he thought he could save him. Hiccup doesn't need saving. He has survived on his own for too long, he has too many rules and survival techniques to just throw it all away. He would not know what to do with a _normal_ family. He doesn't need one. And you know what? He doesn't even want one.

As for the door, he was young and foolish. He has a past. Let it go.

She hums softly, taking notes. "Alright Hiccup. Here's the plan. You're going to keep the machines for a couple more days. This one alerts us if your heart stops beating or *cough* removes itself, and the other one is nutrients to help your body recover. After that, we'll keep you here until you can walk with crutches, and then you'll go and stay with a lovely woman called Mrs Ingerman. I will warn you, she likes dogs."

Hiccup caught his breath. They had a home set up for him already? He couldn't leave? His heart pumped in his chest, surprisingly regular, and he suddenly felt like he was underwater. He was trapped. He couldn't escape.

He flinched when he felt a hand on his arm. Slowly, his vision cleared and the beeps of his monitor stooped jarring his head and ringing in his ears.

"I'll leave you alone for a bit. By the way, you had a visitor last night. Short boy, in a hoodie. I didn't catch his name. Or anything really..."

Hiccup couldn't help the sly smile that spread over his face. Snotlout was loud, arrogant and overconfident. But brash as he was, Hiccup had to admit he was darn good at being inconspicuous when he wanted to be. He didn't want to think about Snotlout. He didn't want to think about some fucking drug addict who he just happened to be related to saving his life. Hiccup was under no delusions that he nearly died. He was just so used to the treatment that led up to it that it didn't faze him. Or maybe Snotlout snuck him some of his precious drugs. Maybe he was crazy, but he has lived through most people's darkest fears, and there's nothing left to be afraid of. He snorted bitterly.

 _This is supposed to be the easy part, the part when everything's sunshine and rainbows and I'm not going to get hurt. And this is what I'm terrified of. Good job, Haddock._

At some point during his rant, Heather had left and there was food on that horrible plastic table that he never wanted to move.

 **Holy sheesh that was a long chapter. I swear that doubled the length of the fic.**

 **Right, we're going on a rant. Buckle up.**

 **You should know by now that I'm a sarcastic little shit, which is one of the reasons I love Hiccup cos he's one too!**

 **I know the Heather bit may not be entirely realistic, but I'm tired of social workers having 0 chill and I'm sure you are too. I would love to say this is based on a real life experience but I had the sort of person that talks about you like you're not here and the gives you fake smiles and fake pity. She did the whole 'you're fucked up, I was wondering if you'd noticed?' And then was like 'how does it feel to be fucked up?'**

 **Also you see where this is going, don't you? That's right, I'm going to do a cliched Snotlout has misconceptions about Hiccup and Hiccup has misconceptions about Snotlout. Then they find out they're not who each other think they are, hug and live happily ever after. (So original) And it's going to be the best damn piece of shit you'll ever read. So there.**

 **Anyway I'll stop ranting lol.**

 **By the way, freckles are an absolute bitch. They fuck up everything.**

 **Have a nice day, drive safely, and review!**


	5. Never say no

**Hi. So I should warn you that there are some pretty horrible nightmares in the next two chapters. Idk if they should be M but Hiccup's probably is...**

 **Anyway. Here's the non cliche showdown** **no ones been waiting for.. but it's not the two people you would expect it to be...**

 _Feet echoed on a cold stone floor, the sound booming around the empty warehouse._

 _The empty warehouse of blood._

 _The empty warehouse of nightmares._

 _A strange, contorted voice, as if underwater, called out roughly._

" _Where's my money, boy?"_

 _Suddenly, the gun was there._

 _Long, silver and threatening._

" _SNOTLOUT!" A scream broke the silence and a hoarse throat choked on a sob._

 _A meaty fist closed around his hoodie._

" _SNOTLOUT, SNOTLOUT HELP ME PLEASE HELP MMMPH AAAAH!"_

 _The gun was right there, just beyond his reach. He could do it. Knee the man in the groin, sweep his legs from under him with one of his own and have the gun against his head before he could even get up._

 _Disgusting, foul breath rolled into his nostrils._

" _NO NO NO NO! STOPPP.. PLEASE STOP PLEASE NO!"_

 _He knew who the voice was. He had always known. It was the same voice every time._

" _Well," the man sneered. He knew he had won. Snotlout was frozen, he couldn't move._

 _The screaming stopped. The crying stopped. The nasty, scarred man, his first kill dragged a dead body out of the next room. Clothes in dark grey strips, blood covering everywhere. The same person with half a mangled leg..._

 _And a perfect, peaceful angelic face._

Snotlout gasped as he shot up in bed, hazy snippets of the nightmare rolling around his brain. The warmth of his hoodie brought him back to earth, and he squeezed the ends, rolling the soft, worn fabric through his shaking fingers. Slowly, his breathing evened out. He felt the familiar pang in his chest as he focused on his breathing; his was always steady while Hiccup's was irregular and hitched halfway through, like there was something blocking it. Hearing his father downstairs, he got up and sauntered down the stairs, the stairs he knew so well. So well, in fact, that he made them creak on purpose.

His father was dressed and standing. He was wearing worn jeans and that ratty top it seemed he had had since the beginning of time. He looked almost casual. And it was downright terrifying.

"You called them." It wasn't a question.

"I had to!"

"No. You didn't."

"I couldn't watch him die!"

"Oh. Oh I see." The tone was derisive. He was mocking him. He didn't 'see' at all.

"You can happily murder people but when it comes to turning your back and not giving a _shit_ that too much for you."

Damn. Spitelout has struck a chord and he knew it. He knew his son would never admit the effects _that_ had on him. So he used it anyway.

"He's my cousin!"

"And I'm your father."

"I..."

 _SLAP_.

"NO. Listen to me! I. Am. Your. Father. You pledged your loyalty to me. I'm not going to waste my time being 'daddy' boil. I have no hesitation treating you exactly how I would any employee. You do your job, I feed you and I clothe you. If you keep fucking up like this! You find yourself... elsewhere. And trust me. It will not be pleasant. Do you understand me boil?"

He took another step forward and shook Snotlout roughly.

"I SAID DO YOU UNDERSTAND!"

Now, Snotlout had heard Stoick yelling at Hiccup too many times to count. It was to be expected and the louder he was, the angrier he was. His father was different. Smarter. He rarely yelled, and when he did, he was to be feared. But yelling meant uncontrolled anger: short lived but fierce. It was when he hissed, that he was really angry. He would go away and, as no joke or understatement, plot the most painful death possible. Snotlout heard him hissing a lot.

It would start with fake, sarcastic kindness, to lull the dumb victim into answering honestly. Then his mood would change sharply, giving a slap or knocking them to the ground, making sure whoever it was had no delusions about his father's insanity. Then he would hiss. Quietly, silkily spit the most derogatory personal insults he could. It was as if his brain was a library. Spitelout was dangerous. He was the perfect combination of smart, smooth, intimidating and downright insane to do this job. He was one of the very few who thrived. And he has had many years of practice.

Yes, Spitelout was dangerous. But living with Spitelout was a mine field, one he had navigated his whole life. Crossing Spitelout was hitting a mine. In retrospect, he was surprised this hadn't happened sooner. So he said the word.

The one word that could ruin and correct everything. The one word he had always been afraid to say. The word that would free, liberate and end him at the same time. And that one little cliched word that everyone writes internal monologues about.

"No."

From that moment, everything went as expected. Anticipated. As it did in movies.

A sour, angry face filled with red. Fists raised. Snotlout ran on autopilot.

Catch one fist, block that blow, avoid the wall, stamp down that kick.

The world rang through blocked ears as that perfectly normal, although slightly battered door closed in his exhausted face for what he knew was the last time.

Fate is a funny thing isn't it?

Here he is, trudging slowly toward the one place he had always vowed to never go near. To the one person he always vowed to never go near.

So ironic... some may say it's even... perfect.

Well, that's a stretch.

 **Yup. I just wrote that. I don't know about you, but I'm getting kind of tired of people just stealing the lines from the movie doing the 'Hiccup/Stoick showdown' with the whole 'you're not a Viking. You're not my son' thing. This takes nothing away from the movie. That scene was heartbreaking and still makes me cry. But it's almost cringe worthy when it's copied line for line. Anyway, that's all.**

 **Please review, I was worried about posting this. I know this is moving quite fast, but it was originally a oneshot. I'd written about three chapters on pure bursts of inspiration before I decided I needed to actually make a plan or else. (This is the first story I've actually planned) I have seven chapters planned but I might do more. I'm still going with my signature 'wing it with a hint of sanity on the side'**

 **I love you guys, tell me what you think! :)**


	6. Lonely together

_He was running._

 _Running in shoes he didn't recognise._

 _They were like his, but dustier, the colour distorted._

 _Everything except his feet was hazy._

 _He had no idea what he was running from, but he was scared. His subconscious knew. Deep down, he always knew. He was never safe._

 _No footprints appeared behind him._

 _Razor sharp teeth sunk into the junction between his neck and shoulder. The count began. One for that whimper, two for hissing... he was only just starting._

 _He yelled as a different set of teeth gnashed in front of his face. Four, five._

 _Then the hands began. Huge, hungry, hulking hunks of warm, rough meat sliding everywhere. Blood dribbled down his chin as he bit his lip. That horrible smell rolled into his nostrils. It smelled like it had already been done, but it was only just beginning. Panic set in as the hands continued, grabbing and squeezing hard. The painful sensations became too much and he cried out._

 _Twenty three._

 _The button of his jeans popped._

 _Eighty._

 _He cried out a desperate plea, knowing it would be useless._

 _ONE HUNDRED, ONE THOUSAND!_

 _His heart was rising in his chest so he could hear it's erratic beat._

 _ONE MILLION!_

 _HOW MANY WOULD IT TAKE TO_ _ **KILL HIM!**_

Suddenly, a horrible chorus of beeps invaded the dirty choir of voices already there.

He panted, becoming used to the feeling of being underwater as the world turned surreal around him again.

He was vaguely aware of people in the room, their tones urgent but their voices sluggish.

And then someone was touching him. Whispering in his ear and touching him.

He felt his body thrash on autopilot, not that struggling ever helped anyway. Sure enough, the hands gripping him tightened and a sharp shot of pain pierced his right arm.

His brain ground to a halt and his body felt even heavier. Suddenly, he felt unable to muster a single thought.

Expect wh- **Black.**

 **oOo**

A scream that defiantly wasn't his shattered through his eerie black calm.

"NO!"

There was a crashing sound and what sounded like something between a reprimand and comfort.

Probably the first one.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!"

There was more hushed voices then another scream. Hiccup's head flopped to the side and he stared at tube connected to his arm. It was clear liquid this time.

Probably water. Maybe poison.

The voice sounded like a girl. He didn't want to listen. Didn't want to hear her echo his own voice all those years ago. Didn't want her to find out that it was pointless, she would do herself a favour by giving up. Might as well save some energy.

He was starting to think his superpower was delaying death. That or he was just crazy. Maybe Snotface drugged him after all.

Probably the third one.

It was strange, his usually eternally racing thoughts were ending suddenly, like a full stop at the end of every word, saying: Stop. Thinking. Sleep. Now.

But Hiccup was stubborn. He didn't want to sleep. And as someone who was constantly on his toes, moving, thinking, looking behind him, standing guard, the helplessness and lack of mobility was really getting on his nerves.

The girls voice rang out again.

"LET ME GO!"

Then there was a loud thud and a dull slap, sounds of bare feet smacking on a plastic floor and then his door was flung open and slammed shut, leaving a short, blonde girl gasping for air and peering out the window as a woman rushed by.

Seeing her go, the girl visibly relaxed before tensing again when she registered that she was not alone in the room.

She clenched her fists and took a large, visible breath before wincing at whatever pain the movement caused. Slowly, she turned around to face him, her posture relaxing a very small fraction when she realised he wasn't a 50 year old man or a bodybuilder. Still, she didn't want to face him and her white, shaking hand rattled the doorknob.

Whatever lecture she was giving herself was making her more anxious by the second. Hiccup had a pretty good idea of what it would be.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid. First, you go and get yourself in a fucking hospital and have to cause a scene. But that's not enough for you, no. You have to involve adults and actual fucking authorities, and now your in some strange boys room hiding from said adults, and he probably thinks your crazy. Your losing your touch, they should send you back. You need to leave, now. Leave. Run. Go.._

Almost as soon as his brain conjured those damned words, her tiny hand wrenched the doorknob and she raised herself onto tiptoes.

"Wait!" He called, but it came out as more of a soft croak.

It was enough, though. Her wild, bright blue eyes turned back to him, inquisitively searching his face and body.

Something seemed to click in her brain, because her hand left the doorknob and she stepped away from it.

She sauntered rather nervously to the foot of his bed and picked up his file, keeping one eye on him at all times. Her eyes widened as she read the file and Hiccup shifted uncomfortably, not really wanting her to look at it.

She lifted her clear blue eyes to his with an almost smirk,opening her small, pink mouth to speak.

"A door?"

Hiccup gasped like a fish for a moment before grumbling curses and settling back into the pillows.

"Shut up."

Her smirk grew and she let out a harsh giggle. "A door!"

"Hey!"

"Oh come on, a door, really!"

"I think we've covered that point, don't you?

"Not even stairs."

"Leave me alone, I was 10!"

"Yeah, that's your score for convincing explanation skills. Not."

"Why am I even having this conversation with you."

"Because you are a disgrace to all of us, Haddock, and someone needed to call you out on it!

"Says the girl who breaks into people's hospital rooms and reads their private information."

She looked slightly disgruntled and almost guilty, but covered it up with a snort.

"Says the boy who asked me to stay."

"Technically I said wait."

"Same thing."

"Are you just going to stand there all day?"

She giggled, walked forward and plonked herself on his bed, the movement causing his ribs to protest.

"What's your name?"

She stared at him with her huge blue eyes for a long time and he thought she wasn't going to tell him.

"Astrid."

He was surprised when her soft, sweet voice reached his ears. He held out his hand, the one not currently being stabbed. "Hiccup."

She giggled again, taking his hand in her smaller one. "I know."

"Wow."

"What?"

"I think I've found the sole other living being with smaller hands than me."

She let out a sound between an indignant snort and a shriek.

"Bet I'm taller than you though."

"You can't prove that."

Her whole face lit up, seemingly exited at the challenge.

Slowly, she slid her body down so she was lying next to him, she scrutinised their head placements before stretching out her feet, which were a few inches longer than his foot.

Giving a happy little hum, she said right in his ear, "So there."

Then she snuggled against him, draping an arm over his thin chest and plonking her chin on his shoulder. Her knee brushed his stump and he gasped.

"Sorry." She whispered, barely audibly.

He made a tired noise in response, feeling her little puffs of breath against his neck.

It was strange but nice, he decided, having another body next to his, someone he barley knew but had an unexplainable feeling she would not hurt him. Hiccup had never had that feeling before, he didn't know it existed. He never went to school after primary, but he schooled himself in how to act, what to do and the art of staying alive. He assumed he would always use those techniques, they were foolproof. Hiccup was stubborn, he would not die. But one thing he had no idea how to deal with was affection. Touch equals pain. It was the number one, most important thing to learn. But he wasn't in pain.

Maybe he could learn.

But for now, his sleepy brain was catching up with him. His eyelids draped over the last picture of the world his eyes took.

He was sure he had seen those eyes before...

 **DUN dun dun! Another crappy cliffhanger. Aw yee. One more chapter to go guys! Sorry for the late update, I was trying to do life last Friday but my body was just like 'nope! Sorry!' It only just got its shit together yesterday. That was an experience.**

 **It's my birthday on Thursday! *sarcastic jazz hands***

 **Give some love to the poor injured little fangirl.**


	7. Suffocating sound

**Well hello, did you miss me? Of course you didn't...**

 **I realised I'm so bad with replying to reviews.. just assume I love you all.**

 **If you haven't read harrypanther's stories, you need them in your life.**

 **Special thanks to meraki7734, you're amazing, I love you :)**

 **Yes yes yes! If you haven't, you have to see rtte season 6! It is the best waste of a life I could ever think of. If I live long enough to see httyd 3, I will die happy.**

 **Yeh, does that count? Now read!**

Idle chatter boiled in his ears, blurry and somewhat faraway. He yanked his hood further, as if trying to hide his whole body from sight. The light was suddenly too bright, the walls to white, people's smiles too wide and the world to fake. Every step he took felt lighter and fuzzier. Snotlout had fainted before, but this felt different. He was living in a dream, but not a nightmare. He wasn't going to faint because he was dreaming.

But this was real life.

He was walking through a hospital, hoping no one would notice him or his bruises or his hidden motive he was certain everyone who glanced his way knew in full detail.

He shoved his hands into his hoodie. Feeling the rough, worn, familiar material was somewhat grounding. The world stopped spinning and sound rushed back to him like freshly popped ears.

He had asked the lady at the front desk for Hiccup Haddock, terrified the whole time and reality still just out of his grasp. His fight with Spitelout hadn't helped. He switched off, let his instincts take over because he had spent so much time schooling them that he was confident they knew what to do. They had never failed him before. He was alive, wasn't he? There. Success.

But he was _terrified_. Weak. He shouldn't be scared when there was no one to run from, no immediate threat to his life. Not that he'd run anyway. That was weak too.

He reached the room, peering inside.

It was grey.

It shouldn't be grey, it should be white! That's what hospitals are, aren't they?

Maybe it was just dark.

Still white, like it should be.

Just dark white.

There were two, perfectly formed and unblemished bare feet on the bed. What happened to that horrible mess he saw at the house? Then he saw the lump. The lump that was a foot.

One foot.

That means there must be two people? He suddenly felt eyes boring into the back of his head. Bracing himself, he twisted the doorknob and stepped into the grey room.

The first thing he noticed was not the sleeping girl.

It was Hiccup.

Hiccup, his stupid, useless, coddled, stuck up, goodie two shoes, scrawny little cousin.

Hiccup, his strong, selfless, clever, miraculously still alive, resilient, amazing little cousin.

Hiccup with needles in his arm, bandages everywhere, one fucking foot and a girl attached to his arm.

Wait... a girl?

He watched, frozen as she stretched and wriggled a bit, the almost catlike movements eerily similar to Hiccups.

Then there were dusky blue eyes staring straight at him.

Letting out a little shriek, she jumped backwards off the bed, clattering into one of Hiccup's machines and making the boy's dark green eyes shoot open in pain.

He blinked, gasping as he tried to sit up, his always restless eyes dancing from him to the girl. He blinked uncomprehendingly a couple more times before reality set in and he realised what was going on.

"Snotlout?" He croaked.

 **Shall I leave it there? I think I will.**

 **I'll update again soon. Please review, bye :)**


	8. Dangerous freedom

**Sorry this is kind of late but I've had a crazy amount of revision which means coffee and junk food. Which also means dark, edgy shit like I posted recently! Perfect. Never operate heavy sarcasm while under the influence of coffee...**

Two fearful blue eyes, shining in the light from the door window met confused ones of the same colour, dark from the lack of light.

Hiccup's medicine fogged brain took an embarrassingly long time to catch up with his eyes. His arm was throbbing.

He croaked out Snotlout's name, wincing at his terrible voice. Still, it was better than the cracked whisper it was yesterday.

Suddenly both pairs of eyes were in him questioningly.

"Astrid, Snotlout. Snotlout, Astrid. Snotlout is my cousin and Astrid has smaller hands than me but is taller than me and she decided to belittle my only talent then went to sleep. Which I am about to go back to doing unless either of you give me a darn good reason not to."

They both stared for another long second before Snotlout spoke up.

"Do you even have a plan?"

Hiccup sighed. "I did. I was going to just get out of here like I did last time but this Heather person said they have a foster home for me. Oh yeah, and the tiny little fact that I can't walk because I'm down a freaking foot. That might hinder my plans a teensy bit."

"Wait.. a foster home?"

"Yup."

"Ok. We're getting you out of here."

"Careful, Snot. Someone might think you actually care."

"I just don't want to leave you to the horrible fate of a foster home. Is that such a big deal, fishbone?"

Hiccup inhaled sharply and shook his head as well as he could. "Treading on thin ice there, dear cousin."

"Shut up, you scrawny little shit."

"Mature."

"Just... urgh! What the fuck are we actually going to do? My batshit crazy psychic father kicked me out because he found out god knows how that I called the police to save your pathetic little life. So that's great. Now I'm fucking homeless and you're in a hospital and some random girl who sounds like she has her shit together is listening to this and your fucking sarcasm is rubbing off on me." He finished, fuming.

"Dear gods." Commented Hiccup, "we're all going to die."

Astrid, who had been silent up until now, snorted. "I'll second that."

"Snot, do you know anyone who could help us? There must be someone."

"Really? Who the fuck would help me? Wait a minute!"

 _It was warm. Too warm to be the alleyway he finally passed out in and definitely far too soft. It was like being in a warm cloud. Or a bed. Most likely the second one._

 _Snotlout groaned. His arm, leg, ribs, stomach and cheek hurt. Sudden panic overrid the pain long enough for his hand to shoot down to his sock to check for the money. His bruised fingers closed over the bulge and he gave a sigh. It wasn't enough money, but it was better than nothing. Spitelout wouldn't be too angry. That ever prevalent first concern satisfied, he focused on minimising his pain. Once he had lay down again, he looked around the dark room. It definitely wasn't his. Or Hiccup's. Thank god. But where was he?_

 _Did someone find him? Who the fuck would help him? What did they want?_

 _The false warmth was dulling his senses. Just because he felt so comfortable didn't mean he was safe. The door swung open without creaking. He didn't know they did that. A short, fat, blonde boy stood in the doorway. Catching Snotlout's eye with a start of surprise, he switched on the lights and Snotlout winced at the sudden change._

" _Oh good, you're awake. Drink this, it will help. Oh right! I'm Fishlegs. What's your name? You're at my house. I found you passed out so I brought you back. Hope you don't mind. I cleaned you up a bit. You're welcome to stay, but you can go if you want.. I'm rambling, aren't I!"_

"Fishlegs!"

"Who?"

"What?"

Snotlout's eyes cleared as he shouted the word. Hiccup had to admit it was a strange one but he couldn't really say much.

Snotlout sighed and launched into his tale. "And he said I could come back any time."

Astrid looked at him with suddenly sparkling eyes. "Do you think it would work?"

"Well he sounds better than foster care. Snotlout?"

"I think he would keep his word. But you can never be sure."

Astrid took a few steps forward and poked Hiccup's side.

"Perfect! Now we just need to figure out how to get you out of here, shorty."

Hiccup huffed, unamused. "Surely you can come up with something, babyhands."

"Excuse you, my hands are petite and feminine. You know what, we might just leave you here."

Snotlout scrunched his nose up. "Don't you have crutches or something?"

"I have a wheelchair in the corner?"

Astrid giggled, grabbing the wheelchair handles. "Come on, grandpa! Let's go!"

"Whoa! Are you crazy! You can't just leave! Someone is bound to notice!"

"Chill, Snotty. Have you never heard of 'the cover of day'? If we just act natural like we're taking him home or something, no one will assume we're doing anything we're not supposed to."

"Guys. That's great, but Astrid, you forget we are still wearing the complementary clothing. Not that it's not 5 star, but I probably can't leave inconspicuously in it and you definitely can't."

She looked down at the flimsy dress and clicked in frustration. "Rats! Foiled again!" She proclaimed dramatically.

Hiccup snorted.

"I have a bunch of shit I was going to throw away that I grabbed on my way out? It won't fit you but it's better than nothing."

Astrid sniffed. "If those are your regular clothes, I dread to think what your throwaways look like."

Snotlout glared at her. "Take them or leave them."

"Fine. Let me look." He tossed her the bag and she caught it deftly.

Sitting cross legged on the floor, she sorted the clothes into piles with knowing grunts and sarcastic snorts. Hiccup and Snotlout just stared at each other awkwardly.

"Got it!" She called. She was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a ripped dark brown jumper that swallowed her hands and left one shoulder exposed. She handed Hiccup another pair of jeans and a dark grey hoodie. He just stared at her. There was no way he was getting into these clothes on his own.

"Ok. Let's just get you off all these machines." Hiccup looked away as she removed the needle, feeling stupid as he had dealt with much worse but still not wanting to look. She moved to the other one and Hiccup gasped.

.. _This one is to alert us if your heart stops beating or *cough* removes itself._.

"Shit! Heather!"

"What?"

"Heather said the machine will alert her if I leave."

"No it won't. I swear it was beeping before and it's not now. It must have shut down or been turned off."

"Oh." Hiccup stared, surprised. He had hated that beep so much yet he didn't notice when it was gone. She removed all those wires. He was free. Well, kind of.

She opened the back of his hospital gown behind his neck and sent to slide it off but he caught her arm, looking at her meaningfully.

"It's not.." _I'm ugly. I-might-traumatise-you-for-life ugly. You don't want to see it. I don't want to see it. I know I'm weak and hurt and useless but I don't want to look at it and..._

"I know." She whispered. "It will only take a second."

Suddenly his bed jerked and he squeaked. Snotlout was holding a button, looking sheepish.

"Oh, Heather said that was for making me sit up or something. It just made me feel really old." He joked, but his voice wavered slightly. His horrible, frail, uneven heartbeat pumped an unwelcome tune loudly in his head.

"That might help actually." Astrid said, her hand still on Hiccup's arm.

Then he was moving. Oh god, it hurt. He tensed every muscle in his body, and Astrid noticed, smoothing her hand up and down his arm and whispering soothing words he wasn't listening to. Once he relatively vertical, the bed stopped moving and he sighed in relief, that movement hurting his ribs again.

She slipped his gown off and it dropped to his waist. He gasped. He had never had so many bandages in his life! He had scavenged a few and brought some with money he traded Thuggory for, but the mass of white around his chest was completely foreign.

"Can you move your arms?"

"Uh, yeah. Maybe. I don't know."

With minimal pain, they managed to get his hoodie on. It was huge. He tried rolling up the sleeves, but they still only reached his hands.

Astrid bumped his shoulder. "Shoulder buddies!" She giggled.

He looked at her blankly.

"In school, the person you sat next to was called your shoulder buddy. I always thought it was ridiculous but oh well."

Hiccup chuckled, shaking his head.

They got the baggy jeans over his tiny legs without much difficulty. Thank goodness Snotlout was short, at least. He just closed his eyes and listened to his weak little heartbeat. His _foot_. He didn't want to see it. It was like the rest of him but worse.

"There. You look fabulous!"

Hiccup opened his eyes, took a deep breath and gave a shaky little giggle. "Why thank you, miss Astrid. I might employ your services again if I need attire to inconspicuously break out of a hospital."

She shook her head, her small mouth curving into a smile. "Let's get you in your mobility scooter, grandad."

Unwelcome tears pricked at his eyes as he was moved. He hurt _everywhere_. He gritted his teeth to keep from crying out, he knew they were trying to be _gentle_ but it still hurt like hell.

The white hot pain coursing through his nerves was affecting his brain.

Powerless. Useless. Hopeless. Worthless.

What was the point. He had been running on survival instincts for years, trusting them just to keep him alive because that's all his body could manage. But what happens if he doesn't want to survive anymore. What else is there? Who else is there? Has he survived all this, all this pain for no reason at all?

 _Maybe life is just some sick trick by the gods. Or maybe there are no gods. Maybe we just.. exist. We exist because we exist and then we cease to exist. One day we arrived, and one day we will die out._

The world was becoming fuzzy. The pain blurred into an all consuming dull fizzy sensation. This had happened before. He hadn't fainted exactly, he was walking to Snotlout's after a punishment. He didn't remember telling his body to stop. He was just in too much pain to move, to think, to _breathe_. His body just.. gave up.

It was as if as soon as he stepped away from the immediate danger to his life, he realised it wasn't worth living. Maybe he still would die. He was certainly in enough pain. He could just make that cut bleed again...

"Hiccup?" A creamy, pale face with striking blue eyes invaded his red haze.

The world fuzzed out completely before coming into strikingly clear focus, shocking his eyes which made them glaze over again.

"Whoa. Your pupils are going crazy, cuz. Are you ok?"The words barely penetrated, but he heard them enough to roughly force his eyelids shut.

"Hiccup, we're nearly out, ok? Just hang in there."

With Astrid's soft words, black almost gently overtook his consuming red haze.

 **Woo! One more chapter left! Well, that I've planned, but clearly planning anything is pointless because it's never worked for me and I doubt it will start now! See you soon, please review!**


	9. Painful protection

**Well hello! Yes that's all I have to say after disappearing for a month.**

 **Don't kill me. Well, you can, but read and review my shit first.**

An unwelcome knot formed in Snotlout's stomach as Hiccup slumped back in the wheelchair, his previously tightly shut eyelids relaxing. He would have kicked himself for his concern and almost affection if Hiccup had been slightly more coherent.

He just looked so tiny.

Things were bothering him that had never bothered him before. Like the way Hiccups's bones stick out a mile and the amount of silvery scars knitted in with his freckles. How freaking long his eyelashes are and how it makes him look too bloody innocent and childish.

He was stupid.

A few hours ago, the thought of going to anyone for help would have been stupid.

The thought that he might care for anyone would have been stupid. Mainly because focusing on anything other than his own survival in the cruel, dark world he has been forced to navigate would have resulted in extremely painful consequences.

As would allowing himself to think, to reflect, to heal, to _feel_.

He thought he was a master at blocking out all his painful emotions because he knew if he let himself feel them he would break.

He had murdered people.

Murder.

Mur.

Der.

That horrible word containing all the power to break him rolled around his head, latching onto any other thoughts he possessed and tainting them, like the cold, slimy blood he could never seem to wash off his raw, burnt hands.

The guilt that had the power to freeze him as he saw himself watch Hiccup curl up on their rotten, broken old couch and cry away the pain from his own personal hell.

The guilt should have broken him. The pain should have broken him. The sadness should have broken him. But they didn't.

They made him harder.

Rougher, tougher. More ruthless, heartless.

He did his job, all he was supposed to and reported back to his father. Sorry, employer. He was a good little tool, a perfect pawn in their broken game.

But then he stepped into his uncle's unnaturally quiet little house and ruined everything.

A few hours ago, he would have thrown Hiccup on the ground and beaten him up for dredging up all his stupid emotions and making him feel them, letting whatever part of his brain that makes his nightmares grab his cousins pained whimpers and broken expressions for the dark. But now... he stared at Hiccup's peaceful face and wanted to protect him.

He knew how much of a risk he was taking. One thousand scenarios played out in his head constantly, each one ending in a different type of hell.

They had left the hospital. A map played out in his head, calculating all the alleyways and back gardens he could walk though to get to his destination. Quickly, inconspicuously. Always on alert and never stopping.

He imagined his solitary body moving swiftly though all the dangerous places, only slight comfort in the knowledge he was just as dangerous, perhaps even more so.

But he wasn't alone.

So he looked over at Astrid who smiled right back at him and walked down the main road, filing the names in the new map his mind created.

 **Welp. So I have a feeling this is rlly flirting with the line between T and M, but changing the rating is soooo much effort (totally) so I'm not going to.**

 **I'll be back soon with the ending I keep putting off!**


	10. Alive and Home

**Here it is, the actual last chapter! Yep, I got my shit together peeps so here is my rip off version of a proper ending. Enjoy!**

The first thing he registered was that soft warmth that only came from being outside. Then, as he awoke more, the smell that meant he was by a road, a busy one at that. Finally, using all his sense but sight, he deducted that he was in a wheelchair next to Astrid and Snot.

But he really didn't want to open his eyes.

He has navigated the 'big, scary world' from an age far too young. Over the years, he picked up how to deal with any given situation and filed it away in his ever buzzing brain. He knew how to act around different people, how to pick out those differences and exactly what to say and do at all times.

It was comforting, a monotonous set of rules that are easily recited and followed. His brain coaching his mouth and body in his soft, unthreatening tone contrasting the dangerous person he was faced with.

He did his job, played the act to perfection like always and escaped to the safe little haven his mind created as waves of pain wove their burning path through the nerves in his body. He sat on the soft green grass, encased in serenity and blood spattered his thighs and dirty growls sounded next to his eardrums.

One thought was constantly on his mind: survival.

Deep down, he knew it wasn't healthy that his hair fell out at a touch and his stomach stopped growling and painlessness stopped making sense as a concept, but he was alive.

Alive, alive, alive.

And that was all that mattered.

But suddenly... that all changed.

No threat to his survival was present. He was _full_ , he wasn't thirsty and the pain radiating through his body was manageable.

It was terrifying.

Terrifying because he knew, once he opened his eyes and took in his unfamiliar surroundings, that he had no idea what to do. No idea how to play it. No idea even what game was being played. Yes, maybe people smile their big white fake smiles and proclaim there are no games but there's always a game. Always a deal.

 _Great Hiccup, congratulations! Now you can add chickening out on opening your fucking eyes to the list of things you've done with your life._

He let a small sigh escape his lips and immediately there was a hand in his shoulder. Mainly from the contact and nothing else, his eyes jerked open and sunlight flooded his dark red vision.

"Hey, grandpa! You had us worried there for a minute!"

Hiccup let out a short, breathy laugh; the feel of it reverberating through his chest better than even the warm sunlight on his chest.

"Just a minute?"

"Yep."

"One?"

"Just one."

"Ouch."

"Problem, grandpa?"

"Will you stop with the grandpa? Surely I don't look that old!" He chuckled.

Astrid hummed, pretending to scrutinise his face carefully before stating cryptically:

"No Hiccup, you look about 12."

"Gee thanks" Hiccup drawled sarcastically.

"Seriously have you like, ever been outside?"

"Yes." Both him and Snotlout stated far too fast. He turned to shoot a nasty glare at his tactless cousin as Astrid drawled "whoaaa calm down!"

Of course he went outside! Just not much... or when it was dark... It still counts!

Defensive is dangerous. Too much makes a person suspicious, not enough is a definite guilty. Playing defensive is always a last resort and, if used, must be thought through carefully before any move is made.

Snotlout was good. The best, in some ways. In others, however, he was far, far from it. There were times when Hiccup was reminded how human Snotlout really was, they both were, really. There were also times when he was reminded just how good Snotlout really was, and this was one of those times.

"If I remember correctly, voila! Casa de Fishlegs!"

"10/10 Spanish, Snot."

"Shut up."

Astrid wheeled him up to the drive, the reassuring grip on his shoulder just as comforting for her as for him, maybe more so as it started to become painful. He was always good at reading people, but he never gave much thought about how strange this must be for her, going from wherever she was before to a hospital, all alone, to the prospect of living with complete strangers and two random boys she barely knows.

Snotlout stepped up the last step, his breath audible. Blue veins bulged through white knuckles as his fist pulled taught and one visible tremor wracked that ever steady hand before training and instinct kicked in, pulling it stable again. Time slowed fuzzed as he rapped his knuckles a few times against the foreign wooden door and all three held their breaths.

They watched as if hypnotised as the doorknob turned.

It creaked as it opened, a barely audible sound but deafening in the suspenseful silence.

"Hello?"

A tall, bulky boy with short, choppily cut blonde hair in a thick blue sweater stood at the door. He scrutinised the three of them before his eyes rested on Snotlout and he gasped.

"Snotlout?" He gave a high strangled noise of surprise and happiness before he grabbed Snotlout and squeezed him in a tight hug. "You came back! I can't believe you came back!" The he stepped away, looking sheepish as Snotlout rubbed his back. "I mean, are you ok? Who are your friends? Are you hurt?"

"Uh.. yeah hi Fishlegs. Can we stay with you? I mean if you can't that's ok.. but we really have nowhere else to go." Snotlout rubbed his neck.

They were just words. Words to anyone else. Easy words to say as well. But Hiccup knew they meant so much more to Snotlout. He spent his whole life trying not to be weak. Hiccup realised this now. Every time he kicked him out, called him names, beat him up or ignored him, Snotlout was just trying not to be weak. Hiccup knew that Snotlout could survive on his own. If he was on his own, he probably wouldn't be here. He would be in some abandoned alleyway, looking out for himself like he always has. If he was any less useless, he would probably be with him. But he was hurt. Really hurt. He had spent his whole life downplaying injuries but this he couldn't ignore. He was missing a fucking limb. As much as he wouldn't admit it, he was more than a bit affected. Somehow, Snotlout seemed to know that. Understand. He wanted to take care of him. Him and Astrid. Maybe they don't have to be alone anymore.

Maybe they never were.

 **Yes, that is the end. I'm not completely happy with it so feel free to tell me how much you hate me. There was so many directions I wanted this story to go so I chickened out :p** **But tell me if you think I should continue or make a sequel. It's quite likely I will if enough of you want me to. Even if if you have no strong opinions, still leave a review because you know I love to hear from you regardless!**

 **But for now, adios!**

 **(Yes, I am Spanish. I had you all fooled mwahaha)**

 _ **(It's all liessss)**_


	11. Sequel Notice

Soo.. hello! There's a sequel! Bloody finally...

Anyway, my terrible time management aside, it's called 'Just A Little More Perfect'

It will be a two shot, one from Hiccup's POV and one from Snotlout's. It's just basically them thinking about the past and how things have changed but go read it, it might clear up some things and give you more of an insight into the characters action in this story. Thanks for sticking with me, it takes me a loong time to get my shit together.

Well, that was a long ramble for what just could have been 'there is a sequel. Read it.'

I'll let y'all go now.. bye!


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